FIC: "If That Mockingbird Don't Sing" - Aaron, Charlie (PG)
Title: If That Mockingbird Don't Sing
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairing: Aaron, Charlie
Rating: PG, mild language
Word Count: 878
Spoilers: Up to 3x22 Through the Looking Glass + mild spoilers for S5
Summary: AU/Future: Aaron is at a music store when he makes an interesting discovery.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost. At all.
Author's Notes: For toestastegood, who requested Charlie at lostsquee's 2009 Luau. Hope you like it! There's a little added surprise at the end. =)
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Aaron Littleton shook his bangs out of his eyes as he continued to rifle through the $2 CD bin at Hard Copy, his favourite music store. When he wasn't in his buddy Ed's garage rehearsing with his band mates, he was here combing over the store's entire stock from A to Z, always afraid he'd missed some hidden gem. While most music stores these days just sold those digital cards whose code you redeem online to download your album, Hard Copy was one of the few remaining music stores that still sold CDs (and even the odd vinyl), which is where it got its name.
Aaron was sixteen, but he was an old soul. He loved this store because he loved having music come in some tangible form that he could hold in his hand. It was a tradition upheld by many generations of teenagers before him, and he took great pride in carrying it on. There was something fascinating in examining the intricacies of an album's cover art, no matter how simple or complicated it was. How could anyone expect to get the full experience of, say, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart Club Band, if all they have is a tiny 2x3" picture of its cover on a little card? Madness.
Aaron was just about to give up on the $2 CD bin; he either already owned most of them or he didn't care to. He got to the last one: its cover had a background that faded from black on top to red on bottom with the title Driveshaft: Greatest Hits in white across the center.
Aaron had never heard of them.
He flipped to the back to read the track listing when something in the band's group shot caught his eye. A scraggly-looking guy in a hoodie with dark blondish hair sat on the far right of the picture, his left hand resting on one knee very close to the camera. On his middle finger lay a silver ring with the initials "D.S." resting on a sort of star shape. Aaron raised his eyebrows and looked down at his own left hand where he wore the same ring, also on his middle finger. He looked back at the picture again to more closely examine the ring and compare it with his own. As far as he could tell, they were identical.
"Hey, Phil!" Aaron called out to the employee behind the counter as he walked over with the CD in his hand.
"Littleton of Bethlehem, what can I do you for?" replied Phil. Everyone who worked here knew Aaron's name (and called him by his nickname).
"You ever hear of these guys 'Driveshaft'? They any good?"
"Uh..." Phil paused to think about it. "I have no idea, dude. I think their bassist was in a plane crash or something and the rest of the band came back with some kind of tribute to him, but they disappeared into oblivion after that."
"Oh," said Aaron, nodding. Absent-mindedly, he continued to nod as he studied the picture, his gaze repeatedly going from the guy's unfamiliar face, back to the ring. When his own was given to him, Aaron was told that it was a family heirloom. He had asked what "D.S." stood for, but was never given a straight answer.
"Littleton? You okay, man?" asked Phil. Aaron had been engrossed in his thoughts and hadn't said anything for nearly a minute.
"Oh yeah, I'm good, it's just... this guy's got my ring!" Aaron laughed in disbelief as he showed Phil the back of the CD along with the fingers on his left hand fanned out in front of him.
Phil examined both rings. "Hah, that's hilarious, man! Is yours a replica or something?"
"No, man, it's a family heirloom!" said Aaron. "Or at least I thought it was..."
"Maybe you're related to this guy..." said Phil. He squinted as he looked closer at the picture. "Hey, I think he might be the bassist, dude."
"Yeah?" said Aaron. He wondered if the guy had it on when he crashed. "How the hell did I get it, then?"
Phil started humming the Twilight Zone theme song. Aaron scoffed. He had always liked that ring. He thought the look of it was really cool, and as a result, he never took it off. He liked its uniqueness. Now suddenly it wasn't so unique anymore. Some random guy in some random band had one just like it. It couldn't possibly have been the same one; that guy probably died with it on when his plane crashed.
Aaron took another hard look at the photo and sighed as he passed the CD over the counter for Phil to ring in while he dug around his pocket for spare change.
"Let me know if they're any good," Phil said as he handed the CD over to Aaron along with his receipt. "I get the impression that they might suck balls, though."
"Hey, don't insult my favourite band," Aaron smirked as he held up his ring finger.
Aaron left the store with a several questions still swirling around in his head. The whole thing was weird. But he kept getting back to one thing: No one had really ever told him what "D.S." stood for.
Fandom: Lost
Characters/Pairing: Aaron, Charlie
Rating: PG, mild language
Word Count: 878
Spoilers: Up to 3x22 Through the Looking Glass + mild spoilers for S5
Summary: AU/Future: Aaron is at a music store when he makes an interesting discovery.
Disclaimer: I don't own Lost. At all.
Author's Notes: For toestastegood, who requested Charlie at lostsquee's 2009 Luau. Hope you like it! There's a little added surprise at the end. =)
_________________________________
Aaron Littleton shook his bangs out of his eyes as he continued to rifle through the $2 CD bin at Hard Copy, his favourite music store. When he wasn't in his buddy Ed's garage rehearsing with his band mates, he was here combing over the store's entire stock from A to Z, always afraid he'd missed some hidden gem. While most music stores these days just sold those digital cards whose code you redeem online to download your album, Hard Copy was one of the few remaining music stores that still sold CDs (and even the odd vinyl), which is where it got its name.
Aaron was sixteen, but he was an old soul. He loved this store because he loved having music come in some tangible form that he could hold in his hand. It was a tradition upheld by many generations of teenagers before him, and he took great pride in carrying it on. There was something fascinating in examining the intricacies of an album's cover art, no matter how simple or complicated it was. How could anyone expect to get the full experience of, say, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart Club Band, if all they have is a tiny 2x3" picture of its cover on a little card? Madness.
Aaron was just about to give up on the $2 CD bin; he either already owned most of them or he didn't care to. He got to the last one: its cover had a background that faded from black on top to red on bottom with the title Driveshaft: Greatest Hits in white across the center.
Aaron had never heard of them.
He flipped to the back to read the track listing when something in the band's group shot caught his eye. A scraggly-looking guy in a hoodie with dark blondish hair sat on the far right of the picture, his left hand resting on one knee very close to the camera. On his middle finger lay a silver ring with the initials "D.S." resting on a sort of star shape. Aaron raised his eyebrows and looked down at his own left hand where he wore the same ring, also on his middle finger. He looked back at the picture again to more closely examine the ring and compare it with his own. As far as he could tell, they were identical.
"Hey, Phil!" Aaron called out to the employee behind the counter as he walked over with the CD in his hand.
"Littleton of Bethlehem, what can I do you for?" replied Phil. Everyone who worked here knew Aaron's name (and called him by his nickname).
"You ever hear of these guys 'Driveshaft'? They any good?"
"Uh..." Phil paused to think about it. "I have no idea, dude. I think their bassist was in a plane crash or something and the rest of the band came back with some kind of tribute to him, but they disappeared into oblivion after that."
"Oh," said Aaron, nodding. Absent-mindedly, he continued to nod as he studied the picture, his gaze repeatedly going from the guy's unfamiliar face, back to the ring. When his own was given to him, Aaron was told that it was a family heirloom. He had asked what "D.S." stood for, but was never given a straight answer.
"Littleton? You okay, man?" asked Phil. Aaron had been engrossed in his thoughts and hadn't said anything for nearly a minute.
"Oh yeah, I'm good, it's just... this guy's got my ring!" Aaron laughed in disbelief as he showed Phil the back of the CD along with the fingers on his left hand fanned out in front of him.
Phil examined both rings. "Hah, that's hilarious, man! Is yours a replica or something?"
"No, man, it's a family heirloom!" said Aaron. "Or at least I thought it was..."
"Maybe you're related to this guy..." said Phil. He squinted as he looked closer at the picture. "Hey, I think he might be the bassist, dude."
"Yeah?" said Aaron. He wondered if the guy had it on when he crashed. "How the hell did I get it, then?"
Phil started humming the Twilight Zone theme song. Aaron scoffed. He had always liked that ring. He thought the look of it was really cool, and as a result, he never took it off. He liked its uniqueness. Now suddenly it wasn't so unique anymore. Some random guy in some random band had one just like it. It couldn't possibly have been the same one; that guy probably died with it on when his plane crashed.
Aaron took another hard look at the photo and sighed as he passed the CD over the counter for Phil to ring in while he dug around his pocket for spare change.
"Let me know if they're any good," Phil said as he handed the CD over to Aaron along with his receipt. "I get the impression that they might suck balls, though."
"Hey, don't insult my favourite band," Aaron smirked as he held up his ring finger.
Aaron left the store with a several questions still swirling around in his head. The whole thing was weird. But he kept getting back to one thing: No one had really ever told him what "D.S." stood for.